


Vapor Strewn

by VenetaPsi



Series: In All The Universes We Meet [1]
Category: Banana Bus Squad
Genre: Dancing, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Metaphors, Nightclub, Shotgunning, Supernatural Elements, Vaping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-10
Updated: 2019-09-10
Packaged: 2020-10-14 02:10:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20592956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VenetaPsi/pseuds/VenetaPsi
Summary: John stopped in front of him, and the man raised his chin slightly to meet their eyes. Amid the bombs and chaos that only artists could see in the sheltered club, they watched one another, wolves circling, daring the other to strike first.Part 1 of "In All The Universes We Meet" (Overarching plot)





	Vapor Strewn

1.  
They locked eyes, pale icy blue against charred golden-carmel. 

Between them stretched piles of rubble and smoke, created from dancing limbs and vapes and cigarette smoke and flashing colored lights. The pounding of music did not reach their ears, instead they heard the low ringing that followed an explosion, saw spots in their vision not from spotlights but from flares. Their sight was filled with rock and ash, filtering through from shining hair and tiled floor. 

He was shadowed against the nearby wall, black denim and cotton against dark wood stain and pale violet lighting. John watched him, picking his way slowly across the warzone, and he looked back with piercing eyes, cautious, yet unafraid. 

It was this quiet, somber figure in the background that John had saw past all of the heat and tangled limbs; the stench of alcohol and chattering voices. Raven hair and hooded eyes, crossed arms and tight, conserved posture as he leaned against paneled wood. The blonde could see his own dramatics reflected back in that sharp gaze, watched the way he observed John’s every move. 

John stopped in front of him, and the man raised his chin slightly to meet their eyes. Amid the bombs and chaos that only artists could see in the sheltered club, they watched one another, wolves circling, daring the other to strike first. John took tanned, calloused hands- musicians hands- between his own pale, metal adorned fingers and pulled the man out into the whirlwind. John’s other arm slipped across thin cloth and settled on his waist, and the raven let himself be pulled closer as they started to dance; slow, pointed, dangerous. 

“Evan,” The man said lowly. John smiled, thin and sharp. 

“A pleasure.” 

“Quite,” Evan replied, dry, sarcastic. John’s grin widened.

“John.”

The corners of Evan’s lips ticked up, a ghost of amusement. John twirled him, watching as his dark, shoulder length hair flowed across his cheeks like a veil, brief, and quick- before they were chest to chest, Evan’s hand tight on John’s, his eyes alight with challenge. A strong arm caught his waist and John fell backwards, world swimming as he stared at it upside down. 

He could feel his feet solid on the ground, an arm supporting his back and the other curled around his stomach and he raised his head to meet Evan’s chuckling laughter. 

“Don’t twirl me,” He teased, as John hooked a flanneled arm around Evan’s neck and pulled himself up. 

“Do you dip all men that embarrass you?” John shot back, all cheek and teeth. Their bodies fit together like puzzle pieces, not perfectly but pretty damn close; gentle cloth and warm skin and denim. 

“I don’t dance,” Evan replied, seriously and John’s couldn’t stop the genuine smile tugging at his lips. 

“Yet here you are,” He told the raven, voice softer then he meant, almost a whisper. Evan looked up at him, a peculiar glint in his eyes. 

“Here I am,” He agreed, equally soft. 

They swayed together, fingers interlaced, hips brushing, slow and calm amid a hurricane, a war. 

“You see it,” John whispered. Evan watched him, contemplating. 

“I do,” He conceded, and their heads fell together, close and intimate, a conversation for their ears alone. “I see rocks and fallen trees. I hear it in the music and stomping feet.”

“I see it in blending colors and flashing lights,” John confessed, low, like a promise. “I saw you in the smoke.”

Evan smiled. 

The raven’s fingers brushed John’s back pocket, his fingernail striking hard plastic. At his curious glance, John’s fingers fell from the other’s waist to pull his vape out of his pocket. Evan’s surprise morphed into amusement as he refocused back on the taller.  
Evan’s expression settled on neutral, contemplative as his fingers rose from John’s waist to brush his temple, fingers catching lightly in John’s bleached-brunette curls. His movements ceased, though he did not pull away as John raised his vape to his own lips and inhaled. 

Nor did Evan move away when John leaned forward with smoke on his tongue, fingertips brushing the raven’s chin. 

Though John was sure Evan had never done it before, he shotgunned the hit without hesitation, smoke flowing between them like fire, their free hands releasing one another to settle on waists, hips, to grasp shirts. 

“Come home with me,” John breathed lightly, starstruck as Evan blew out, rich golden-brown eyes locked on his own. 

“I don’t do that,” Evan warned, and John pulled him closer before he could push him away. 

“Then come home with me forever.” 

The words slipped out without permission, a confession- hushed and truthful. Evan started, silent for several heartbeats and they hung suspended, surrounded by lights and haze and sound that neither acknowledged. Then Evan’s eyes softened and he smiled, gentle and small. 

“You could’ve just asked me out.”

John grinned, relieved and terrified all at once. “I’m dramatic.” 

“I can tell,” Evan huffed, rolling his eyes as he let John link their hands once more and the blonde pulled him towards the exit. 

The artists left the warzone behind, stepping out instead into the night.


End file.
